


Come

by Daena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daena/pseuds/Daena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean calls, and Cas comes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come

As soon as Sam shuts the motel room door behind him Dean locks it and pulls off his belt. His cock is always hard these days, his balls tight and uncomfortable, and Dean cannot stand it anymore. He hasn’t been laid in what feels like years and probably is. _Who was the last person I slept with? Was it Anna? No, it was Lisa. Was it?_

His thoughts trail off as he slides his hand into his jeans and finds heat and hardness beneath the denim. It isn’t as good as fucking, nothing is as good as fucking, but this is all he has right now so he’ll have to take it. He has to think of someone but thinking of Lisa still hurts, so he casts his mind about like a net among possibilities and suddenly it comes – a pair of full pink lips, brilliant blue eyes, mussed dark hair. Dean’s breath catches at the audacity of his subconscious, because Dean is as straight as an arrow, but Castiel will always be an exception with his beautiful face and that voice so low it makes Dean’s morals ache and so Dean closes his eyes and fists his hand around his cock and listens to the wet slick sound of flesh against flesh and imagines Castiel’s mouth there instead, licking and sucking, those big serious blue eyes staring up at him, and – “ _Cas_ ,” Dean moans like it’s some sort of fucking revelation, and thinks of the delicious guttural growl of his voice.

“Dean,” says that very same voice, so close to his ear that Dean can feel his breath, and Dean instantly comes all over his shirt. He’s still shuddering as he tries to put himself back together but Castiel puts a hand on his shoulder and the touch stills him.

“Cas,” Dean says quietly. “I –”

“You called me. I’ve come.”

_So have I._ “I didn’t – I wasn’t –”

“It was a prayer,” Castiel says. “Trust me. I am an angel. I know prayers.”

There is a second of silence, and Dean finds it a second too long and attempts to fill it by zipping up his pants but Castiel has done his angel mojo trick and he is all clean and dressed again so Dean turns around awkwardly. He tries to look contrite but those blue eyes gaze into his and Castiel looks gorgeously disheveled and out of breath and he can’t help but wonder how those lips will taste and he feels his face burn red with the guilt of it. _I want to fuck an angel. I_ deserve _hell_.

He says it in a rush: “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you to come, I didn’t know that was a prayer, you, um, caught me at a bad time.”

“You thought of me,” Castiel says uncertainly. “I felt it. You thought of me, and it felt –” He pauses, searching.

Dean just loves to fill silence. “Like iniquity?” he suggests with a smirk. “Like sin?”

“Like _pleasure_ ,” Castiel breathes, and the moment he reaches for Dean Dean is there, pulling the angel close and kissing those soft lips without hesitation. It is different from what he’s used to – the stubble, the sounds, the different body – but what he’s used to never did him any good and Dean thinks he likes this just as well anyway.

Castiel grinds their hips together and lets out a moan and Dean only has the time to think _or maybe better_ before his body takes over, and he lets it. He begins to undo Castiel’s shirt, fingers stumbling on the buttons, but the angel just nuzzles closer and then the clothes are gone and there is nothing between them, just skin on skin and the insistent press of Castiel’s cock against Dean’s hip.

Dean cannot think, cannot do anything but open his mouth to Castiel’s tongue, and he doesn’t know where the hell Castiel learned to kiss so well but he isn’t complaining so he gasps a breath and dives back in. His hands tangle in soft dark hair and he pulls closer, closer, as though to become one with the angel. His knees feel like they will buckle, and Castiel pulls him to the bed and reaches down between them, where their cocks slide against each other, and Dean’s mind whites out with pleasure.

The touch of Castiel on his skin is electric, and he bucks his hips helplessly, following the sizzle of pleasure as Castiel’s hands move. They are rough and calloused and clumsy but impossibly gentle. Dean thinks of his inexperience, thinks how Castiel knows nothing of sex, remembers how innocently he watched porn with them and was surprised at his human body’s natural reaction. Dean wonders how much of this is just his human body’s natural reaction, and he tries to still.

Castiel grabs his shoulder, right on the handprint Dean bears from the time that Castiel gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, and the touch burns Dean right to the soul. It isn’t pain, but it’s an alien and unfamiliar thing, and he instinctively wants to shy away from it but he doesn’t, and he just looks into Castiel’s blue eyes. And then he feels the alien thing touch him, feels it brush his mind and whisper through his body, and everything tingles. But it is wonderful, and right, and suddenly he knows that it is Castiel’s grace inside him, and he closes his eyes and relaxes right into the angel’s arms.

Castiel cradles him against his chest, and strokes the mark on Dean’s shoulder. It’s an intense sensation, a closeness, as though they are one being. Dean wonders what this means and how it will change him, wonders what Castiel has done to himself by giving Dean this thing. Castiel’s eyes are an ocean in a storm, and Dean drowns in them, casting himself into the waves, and feels the delicious white heat inside him thread itself into his soul and fasten there. Castiel’s heart beats in tandem with his once, twice, and Dean chokes out a gasp against the backdrop of Castiel’s moan as release hits them like a fucking tsunami.

He curls around Dean protectively as they lie there afterward in the drowsiness of afterglow, lips pressed to the back of Dean’s neck. Dean doesn’t want to spoil the moment, but he is curious and he is scared and he has just been soul-fucked by an angel. “Cas,” he says hesitantly.

“You have questions,” Castiel murmurs into his neck, his breath making Dean shiver which only makes Castiel hold him tighter. It is perfect, and Dean wants it to never stop. “I will answer them, but in the morning. Let us not speak of this tonight.”

Dean nods, just the barest motion of his head. “Okay.” Sleep is stealing over him. He tangles his fingers into Castiel’s and his eyelids fall shut, feeling light and warm and comfortable. _I’m happy_ , he thinks faintly. _I hardly recognize it, it’s been so long_.

He is drifting into blackness when he hears Castiel whisper, “I love you.”

Dean says it back at once.


End file.
